Sonnets from two lonely hearts
by Danielle Anderson
Summary: These are a series of vignettes about Angela and Constantine, based on Sonnets from the Portuguese by Elizabeth Browning. Please read and review.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Sonnets from two lonely hearts

Pairing: John Constantine/Angela Dodson

Author's Notes: These are a series of drabbles about Angela and Constantine, based on _Sonnets from the Portuguese_ by Elizabeth Browning. Please read and review.

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. Now onto the story

I

I thought once how Theocritus had sung  
Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,  
Who each one in a gracious hand appears  
To bear a gift for mortals, old or young:  
And, as I mused it in his antique tongue,  
I saw, in gradual vision through my tears,  
The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years,  
Those of my own life, who by turns had flung  
A shadow across me. Straightway I was 'ware,  
So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move  
Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair;  
And a voice said in mastery, while I strove, -  
"Guess now who holds thee!" -  
"Death," I said,  
But, there,  
The silver answer rang, "Not death, but Love."

It was raining.

He didn't really mind that as he stood outside the LA precinct, chewing gum to suppress the nicotine lust. He could see her moving inside the dimly lit room, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear. She was working late again, putting together all the paperwork after solving a murder mystery.

His eyes lingered on her fragile shape and he wished he had a better view of this vision of loveliness from where he stood. He tried to tell himself that he was just checking up on her to make sure that no hellish creatures attacked her,

__

Oh, hell, he sighed as he spat out his gum. _Who am I kidding? I'm infatuated with her._

He looked away to watch the busy traffic on the streets. Why couldn't he be like all the normal people he saw driving to their homes? He could guess they had families and loved ones waiting for them in the comfort of a warm fire. Why couldn't he be more like them, worrying only about a raise or what he should wear for a date?

A touch on his hand snapped him out of his thoughts. It was the object of his affections looking up at him with clear, light eyes. Such concern he saw there. It was a mere touch but he felt it like a fervent caress. He quickly drew his hand away and she took a step back. His mind went blank as he stared at her staring at him.

"John?" she said inquisitively, holding an umbrella over them both. "What are you doing here?"

How dare she? How dare she stand there looking so lovely and not know the effect she was having on him.

He cleared his throat and drew himself to his full height, making her realize how tall he was. "What?" he said sharply. "Is the police station off-limits to me?" He hadn't meant to sound so harsh but he couldn't help him. He instantly regretted his words upon seeing her hurt expression.

"Well," she said, regaining her composure. "I was just surprised to see you here so suddenly. It's been what, two months…"

"Three," he said and then he silently cursed himself for sounding so eager. He cleared his throat and said, "So…how've you been?"

She gave him a look that told him she thought he was acting weird but she replied calmly, "I'm all right, John. And you?"

"Good, good," he nodded, shuffling his feet. He felt like a goddamn teenager at a loss for words when there was so much more that he wanted to tell her.

They stood together in awkward silence for a while until he awkwardly took his leave from her. She offered to give him a ride home but he refused – he didn't think he could stand being near her and not being able to tell her how he felt.

He took a cab home, cursing, wishing that he had a cigarette with him right now. It would've helped him deal with the horrible, scary feeling that he was falling in love.


	2. chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own _Constantine._

Author's notes: Thanks for the reviews. I'm doing my best to keep them IC.

VI

Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand  
Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore  
Alone upon the threshold of my door  
Of individual life, I shall command  
The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand  
Serenely in the sunshine as before,  
Without the sense of that which I forbore -  
Thy touch upon the palm. The widest land  
Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine  
With pulses that beat double. What I do  
And what I dream include thee, as the wine  
Must taste of its own grapes. And when I sue  
God for myself, He hears that name of thine,  
And sees within my eyes the tears of two.

She watched him walk away from her, but she felt as though he were still there.

Seeing him again had brought back so many memories of what happened three months ago. He had saved her and Isabel, saving himself in the act as well. Killing three birds with one stone, she liked to call it privately.

She would forever be in his debt and he would forever be on her mind. And now that she had seen the world through his eyes, would things ever be the same again?

To her lips she pressed the hand that had touched John Constantine only minutes ago. She hid a smile, reveling in his scent. He had a particular scent, like pine or grapes…something odd but something she definitely admired.

As she drove home, her mind was still on him. They'd both been to hell and back and she felt a bond with him – a bond she'd felt with no one else; a bond that could not be broken, no matter what.

This bond had made them one. She had another name she liked to call their bond – love.

Love. She was too afraid to say it aloud. But she already way too deeply in love with him. She wasn't sure when it had happened but she thought about him all the time, about how life made more sense now that she'd met him. It had been a pleasant surprise to find him outside the station and she'd sensed an urgency in him to see her. It was endearing that he was uncomfortable in her presence. He looked like he'd wanted to say something to her…and she'd wanted to tell him so badly how she felt about him.

But would a man like John Constantine accept her love? She knew he was a private person and he harbored his own fears and insecurities. It wasn't likely that he would take her declaration very well.

But it was worth a shot. Love always was.


	3. chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Constantine.

Author's notes: This chapter is rated T for now. Might change to M later.

VII

The face of all the world is changed, I think,  
Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul  
Move still, oh, still, beside me, as they stole  
Betwixt me and the dreadful outer brink  
Of obvious death, where I, who thought to sink,  
Was caught up into love, and taught the whole  
Of life in a new rhythm. The cup of dole  
God gave for baptism, I am fain to drink,  
And praise its sweetness, Sweet, with thee anear.  
The names of country, heaven, are changed away  
For where thou art or shalt be, there or here;  
And this . . . this lute and song . . . loved yesterday,  
(The singing angels know) are only dear  
Because thy name moves right in what they say.

Bearing a gift that more like a curse was not easy.

That's what John was thinking as he pressed the side of his face against the window-glass, watching the crystalline droplets of water collecting outside. He Liked the cooling feel of the glass against his face, a contrast to the warm mug of milk he held in his hands. It would sound crazy to most people but John Constantine, bad ass demon-hunter, exorcist, investigator of the paranormal, actually _liked _milk (although he would not be caught dead admitting it).

__

Did Angela Dodson like milk? he wondered. And then he wondered why he wondered if Angela liked milk. It was exhilarating to feel love rushing through his veins with every beat of his heart. It was so natural for him to love her, like he was meant to feel this way.

Somehow the world seemed transformed ever since Angela had stepped into his life. And what a time for them to meet! He had just learned that he was about to die from lung cancer, moving towards the brink of certain death slowly; but he was only walking towards the love of his life literally, walking towards a God-given opportunity to deliver himself.

His lungs were healed now and God had given him a second chance in life. He was determined for everything to work out this time. He was grateful for all that God had given him and he no longer felt despair when he woke up in the morning. He was in love, with Angela and with life. How beautiful everything was, he noticed now. He was usually so caught up in vanquishing demons that he rarely had the time to appreciate the beauty of the outer world, like the rain falling in the dead of the night and couples huddling for warmth on the streets. And the world, along with everything he did, was more valuable and beautiful to him because Angela Dodson was there with him.

But she deserved better than him, he realized. She deserved someone who could give her a happy home, someone with no inner demons.

A knock on the door roused him from his thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own _Constantine._

XXIX

I think of thee! - my thoughts do twine and bud  
About thee, as wild vines, about a tree,  
Put out broad leaves, and soon there's nought to see  
Except the straggling green which hides the wood.  
Yet, O my palm-tree, be it understood  
I will not have my thoughts instead of thee  
Who art dearer, better! Rather, instantly  
Renew thy presence; as a strong tree should,  
Rustle thy boughs and set thy trunk all bare,  
And let these bands of greenery which insphere thee,  
Drop heavily down, - burst, shattered everywhere!  
Because, in this deep joy to see and hear thee  
And breathe within thy shadow a new air,  
I do not think of thee - I am too near thee.

She was tired of thinking about him. She shifted restlessly on her bed, the sound of her rustling sheets the only sound in the bedroom. She wished she had a picture of him somewhere to keep her company, as pathetic as that sounded.

She felt like a schoolgirl with a crush on her teacher, or an immature teenager attracted to an older, darkly mysterious man. Her feelings for John Constantine were no joke, however. Sometimes it felt that he was a strong tall tree and she was a weaker vine, twisting around him for her own survival. It was true, though, and scary. She needed him like air, the desert needs water.

"Angela, you're pathetic," she murmured to herself and promptly shut her eyes, determined to get some sleep. She dozed off in a matter of minutes and then she started dreaming of him in bed with her, his arms around her, his breath against her skin, his lips…

She woke up with a start, frustrated to tears. She had work early in the morning and how was she going to make it there if she couldn't sleep.

"God damn you," she said aloud as though he were in the room with her. _I wish._

As though God were sending her a sign, she heard Barbara Streisand and Celine Dion's voices drifting into her room from her neighbor's flat.

__

"Tell him, tell him that the sun and moon

Rise in this eyes, reach out to him

And whisper

Tender words so soft and sweet.

I'll hold him close to feel his heartbeat,

Love will be the gift you give yourself."

This was insane! She sat up in bed, throwing away the covers, breathing hard. Tell him how she felt? She didn't have to tell him how she felt to picture him saying with a smirk, "Go get some sleep, detective. The demons are getting to you."

__

"Tell him, tell him, tell him," the voices sang. Angela got to her feet and banged on the wall. "Hey!" she yelled, "you mind turning down the goddamn music?"

The neighbor didn't appear to hear her and the blasted song kept playing. She ran her fingers through her long brown hair and started pacing the room. She remembered her last conversation with John on the rooftop. God had a plan of everyone, he said. Was this a sign? She kept listening to the song. Was this a sign that God wanted to her to go to him and tell him that she was in love with him?

Ridiculous. But if she didn't tell him then how could she get any peace of mind?

She sighed and threw on her clothes. He lived on the other side of town and she was grateful for the absence of any traffic at that time of the night. It was still raining though but she had her raincoat.

As she drove, she wondered what she would say to him. What if he wasn't home? What if he was out hunting demon. _Well, I guess you won't know that until you go to his apartment._

How would she break the news to him? _Um…hello, John, I guess you're wondering why I'm here at this time of the night, huh? Well, actually the thing is I'm in love with you and I have been for a while. I just thought you'd like to know. All right, now that I've said what I've wanted to say, I'll be leaving now._

She frowned and shook her head, cursing John for bringing her to her knees like this. She was Angela Dodson, one of the toughest, best detectives of LAPD and she was totally confused about how she'd confess her love to a detective of the supernatural.

She found his apartment soon enough and parked her car. She took out a mirror to check how she looked – as if he'd care, she realized.

__

All right, here goes nothing, she took a deep breath and raised her hand to knock on the door. She looked at the familiar setting around her, her heart pounding in her chest. She could already feel his presence and breathe his scent inside the flat. It was so much better than thinking of him while she was away from him.

The door opened and there he stood, in his familiar white shirt, black tie and trousers, looking surprised to see her. Her mind suddenly went blank at the sight of him, she could no longer think of him anymore – she was too near him.


	5. chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own _Constantine_.

Author's Notes: Thanks for all the reviews. I'm considering a _Constantine/Stigmata_ crossover, in a separate fic of course. What do you think?

IX

Can it be right to give what I can give?  
To let thee sit beneath the fall of tears  
As salt as mine, and hear the sighing years  
Re-sighing on my lips renunciative  
Through those infrequent smiles which fail to live  
For all thy adjurations? O my fears,  
That this can scarce be right! We are not peers  
So to be lovers; and I own, and grieve,  
That givers of such gifts as mine are, must  
Be counted with the ungenerous. Out, alas!  
I will not soil thy purple with my dust,  
Nor breathe my poison on thy Venice-glass,  
Nor give thee any lovewhich were unjust.  
Beloved, I only love thee! let it pass.

John's heart skipped a beat when he saw Angela standing outside his door, her red lips parted. Their eyes locked and he felt butterflies in his stomach. He noticed the pouting shape of her lips, imagining what it would be like to have such luscious lips pressed against his own.

__

Stop it, John, he hissed to himself inwardly. _Even Chas would handle himself better than you right now._ He opened his mouth to say something but no sound came out. How idiotic he must have seemed, standing at his door and gawking at his beloved.

Angela finally broke the silence with a coy smile. "Can I come in?" she said, amused at his reaction.

"Yeah," he said, albeit too quickly and moved aside. As she came in, her lithe body brushed lightly against his and he shut his eyes briefly, holding his breath. He loved her perfume – roses and jasmines. He shut the door and faced her, searching desperately for something to say to her. Ironically, there was so much he wanted to tell her but the words wouldn't come – he was too overwhelmed by her glorious presence.

He cleared his throat and asked her, "So…how've you been?"

"I've been all right," she nodded. "Just the usual hectic life – chasing criminals, hunting demons, that sort of thing." She swallowed.

John raised an eyebrow in interest. "So you're hunting demons now?" He could've used a chewing gum. Unfortunately, as he fumbled on the kitchen table, he discovered that he'd run out. Damn it.

"Yeah," she nodded. "I just figured out that since I've rediscovered my…psychic abilities, why don't I use them?" Was it just her or was it getting really hot in there?

"Angela Dodson the Exorcist," he smirked.

She moved to stand near the window, looking out at the pouring rain. She didn't deserve him, he realized. She deserved someone whose life wasn't messed up, someone who could give her a family and a comfortable home in the suburbs.

"So what brings you here?" he asked. He should stay away from her, he decided. She was a desirable young woman with a good future ahead of her, she didn't need to ruin her chance at happiness by getting involved with the likes of him.

"I…I just wanted to see how you were doing," she said nervously. He thought the fear in her eyes was kind of cute and although he was used to people being afraid of him, he didn't want her to feel that way.

But perhaps that was better; if she feared him then she would avoid him. Did he really want that?

"I'm doing ok," he said, leaning against the kitchen counter. He was a little confused suddenly. Why would Angela show up at his door unexpectedly? Perhaps something was wrong.

"Still smoking?"

"Nope, I quit. I could really use a cigarette right now, though." He watched her body language and facial expressions. "Angela, is something wrong?"

She sighed and buried her face in her hands. He approached her, forehead creasing in concern. "What's going on?" he asked gently.

"Nothing, really," she said, not daring to meet his eyes. "It's just…there's something that I've wanted to say to you for while now."

John's heartbeat fastened. It did nothing to help his present condition. "Okay," he nodded. "Spill. I'm all ears."

Angela looked up at him right them, their eyes locking.

"John," she said slowly.

"Uh-huh." He was hanging onto her every word.

"I'm in love with you."

That was something he hadn't seen coming.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own _Constantine_.

Author's notes: Reviews are appreciated. Here is the next chapter. Please don't gouge out my eyes ;). And any poem suggestions are welcome.

X

Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed  
And worth of acceptation. Fire is bright,  
Let temple burn, or flax; an equal light  
Leaps in the flame from cedar-plank or weed:  
And love is fire. And when I say at need  
_I love thee_ . . . mark! . . . _I love thee _- in thy sight  
I stand transfigured, glorified aright,  
With conscience of the new rays that proceed  
Out of my face toward thine. There's nothing low  
In love, when love the lowest: meanest creatures  
Who love God, God accepts while loving so.  
And what I feel, across the inferior features  
Of what I am, doth flash itself, and show  
How that great work of Love enhances Nature's.

"I'm with love with you," Angela said as her eyes bore into his. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she was afraid he could hear it. She swallowed nervously, watching John's expressions closely. His facial expressions were usually stoic but this was one of the rare occasions when he was displaying raw emotion. Unfortunately, the emotion was disbelief.

He stared at her for a moment and abruptly turned away, pressing his hand to his lips. She took a step forward and reached out her hand. "John, please…"

"No," he said firmly without facing her. He took a deep breath as he tried to control himself. Angela was truly afraid now of what he might say. What if he rejected her? What if he made fun of her? No, something told her John Constantine wasn't the type of man who would make fun of a woman's affection.

"You don't know what you're saying," he told her weakly, his eyes starting to brim with tears. He blinked them back bravely and swallowed.

"Yes, I do, John!" she insisted, offended by his condescending tone. "I'm an adult, I am fully aware of the differences between love and infatuation. How dare you presume otherwise?"

John sighed and shook his head. "Angela, you can't feel this way about me – it's not right…"

"It's not right?" she interrupted in surprise. "What, it's not right to reach out to another person, _Mr. Constantine_?" Her eyes were burning, partly from anger but mostly from love. "It's not right that I keep carrying you around inside my head all the time, that I can't eat or sleep properly because I feel such love for you…"

He hissed, "Don't say that!" He turned around to face her, his eyes glistening.

Her look softened. "John," she said quietly. "I love you."

He stared at her for a moment and turned away again, not being able to take this in.

"Listen to me!" Angela insisted as she put her hand on his arm. "I love you!" And she meant every word of it, which was a burning flame in her soul.

"You shouldn't be," he sounded choked up. "I don't want you to feel this way about me."

"I can't help it," she whispered to him as she moved closer to him, pressing her breast against the back of his arm. She felt him shudder against her. "You don't think that I've tried to fight this overwhelming feeling, John? Believe me, I have."

John was silent as he looked at her and she went on. "There's nothing wrong in love. And you're worth my love." She smiled a little. "I've risked basically everything to come here and wear my heart on my sleeve, John and I can only pray that you please love me back."

He faced her slowly and she held her breath as she waited for his answer.


	7. chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own _Constantine._

Author's Notes: Thank you for all the reviews. If you want to read some great John/Angela fanfiction, go to They got better stuff than mine.

VIII

What can I give thee back, O liberal  
And princely giver, who hast brought the gold  
And purple of thine heart, unstained, untold,  
And laid them on the outside of the wall  
For such as I to take or leave withal,  
In unexpected largesse? am I cold,  
Ungrateful, that for these most manifold  
High gifts, I render nothing back at all?  
Not so; not cold, - but very poor instead.  
Ask God who knows. For frequent tears have run  
The colours from my life, and left so dead  
And pale a stuff, it were not fitly done  
To give the same as pillow to thy head.  
Go farther! let it serve to trample on.

John turned to look upon Angela, seeing her as though he'd never seen her before.

How was she different from the usual women that he had relations with? She was petite, dark-haired and could be annoyingly stubborn at times. She had her own walls built around her but it touched him that she'd broken them down to come to him.

He admired her courage; he knew he was a difficult man to get along with. He could never express how happy he was that she felt the same way about him, how blessed he felt that a woman like her could ever love a man like him? But he knew that he wasn't worthy of her love.

"Angela," he said softly. "I…don't deserve this."

"God, what's the matter with you?" she was frustrated. "I don't when you developed this goddamn inferiority complex!" She stepped away from him, throwing her hands up to run her fingers through her loose brown hair.

He took a deep breath. "Angela, I love you, too."

There. He said it. John Constantine had finally laid his soul bare by admitting his love for a woman. He watched as she slowly turned around to face him. She was confused, he could tell, and her blue eyes widened.

"But I honestly don't think that things would work out between us," he went on. It broke his heart to tell her this. "Believe me, I want to be with you, more than you'll ever know. But…I don't want this life for you, full of chasing demons…and…oh, God." He broke down, not knowing what to say. "You don't know what it means for me to hear you say that you love me. You don't know…" Warm tears spilled over. "You've given me such a gift…and I have nothing to give you back. I don't want you to think that I'm a heartless man, Angela but you deserve so much better. I don't want you to get involved in my screwed up life." He would never be free of the demons, of his secret nightmares and what was left of him was something wooden, lifeless.

Angela approached him slowly and cupped his face in her hands.

A/N: Ok, so what should the next chapter be? Tell me because I am stuck


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own _Constantine_.

XII

Indeed this very love which is my boast,  
And which, when rising up from breast to brow,  
Doth crown me with a ruby large enow  
To draw men's eyes and prove the inner cost, -  
This love even, all my worth, to the uttermost,  
I should not love withal, unless that thou  
Hadst set me an example, shown me how,  
When first thine earnest eyes with mine were crossed,  
And love called love. And thus, I cannot speak  
Of love even, as a good thing of my own:  
Thy soul hath snatched up mine all faint and weak,  
And placed it by thee on a golden throne, -  
And that I love (O soul, we must be meek!)  
Is by thee only, whom I love alone.

"John," Angela said bravely. "We can't change the way we feel." She sighed, feeling so keenly the press of his warmth against her body. "We can't choose who to fall in love with." She wiped away his tears and gave him a small, shy smile. "Love is a way of enlarging your worth, don't you think?"

John responded by slipping his arms around her and pulling her closer. He buried his face against her dark hair, breathing in the sweet scent. She returned the embrace, and run her fingers through his thick black hair. Something she'd wanted to do when she'd first laid eyes on him. No doubt he'd been rude to her the first couple of times they'd met but despite it all, she had been fascinated by his coal-colored hair that contrasted with his fair complexion. So soft and silky. One wouldn't expect a demon hunter to have such beautiful hair.

The press of his lips against her throat brought her out of her thoughts and she closed her eyes, her heart skipping a beat.

"I love you," came his hoarse whisper and he kissed her throat again.

She felt helpless all of a sudden as she felt a quiet strength emanating from him. She'd never really thought about a man's strength before meeting John, before feeling her breasts press against the hardness of his chest as his hands moved slowly on her back, finding a rhythm of their own. She sank into his warm embrace before echoing his words, convinced that this was the safest place on earth.

He drew back a moment later to look into her eyes and she felt the pull again, the attraction. She thought he was going to kiss her but instead he said, "It's getting late. I think you should get some rest…you have work tomorrow, right?"

Angela flashed him a bemused smile. "Since when did you start caring about my work?"

He was about to answer when she suddenly smelled his breath and frowned. Then she noticed the mug of milk on the table. "Have you been drinking milk?" she asked incredulously.

John blushed. "It helps calm my nerves," he said, turning away in embarrassment.

"That's cute," she said playfully, making him blush even more.

"Uh, yeah, I guess," he replied weakly, cursing himself for not having put away the mug before she came. There was a moment of awkward silence. And then he asked, "Are you leaving now?"

She seemed offended by the question. "If you want me to."

"I don't," he said honestly. "I would really like you to stay."

She felt something else coming along, something he didn't want to tell her. "But?" she prompted.

John sighed, "There's only one bed."

Angela raised her eyebrow and tried to hide a smile. "I don't see the problem…we've shared your bed before, haven't we? When we didn't feel this way about each other…"

"I know," he said. "It's just weird now…don't take it the wrong way but I don't know how I'll be able to handle myself in bed with you."

She tried to stop herself from laughing. And failed.

John scowled at her, his face going red. "Yeah, that's really funny, isn't it?" he said sarcastically.

"Sorry." She caught her breath and smiled at him. "All right, you take the couch."

A/N: Hehe, another crappy chapter from me. I hope you guys aren't displeased because I got exams and papers to write. I was thinking of having them take a shower together but that would be too soon and I thought that people in love don't jump into bed immediately, right? I could be wrong though ;). So what should happen next?

Oh, btw, I recommend Disturb Not the Water on FFN. It's one of my favorite John/Angela fics. R&R.


	9. chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own _Constantine._

Author's notes: Thanks for all the reviews. Could not update because of exams, which ended a week ago.

XXVI

I lived with visions for my company  
Instead of men and women, years ago,  
And found them gentle mates, nor thought to know  
A sweeter music than they played to me.  
But soon their trailing purple was not free  
Of this world's dust, their lutes did silent grow,  
And I myself grew faint and blind below  
Their vanishing eyes. Then thou didst come - to be,  
Beloved, what they seemed. Their shining fronts,  
Their songs, their splendours, (better, yet the same,  
As river-water hallowed into fonts)  
Met in thee, and from out thee overcame  
My soul with satisfaction of all wants:  
Because God's gifts put man's best dreams to shame.

Ghosts and demons had been what John Constantine had for company for several years, ever since he came back from the dead at the age of 15. He had his occasional dalliances with desirable female demons and then he'd had Chas Kramer's company for a few years until the boy passed away recently. Chas had had the death of a hero, a martyr and John admired that.

He found the company of supernatural forces in his life tolerable at first, although he had no desire at all to be caught in the game between God and Satan. And then, the constant need to run off to perform exorcisms and hunt down evil spirits became unbearable. He was tired of waking up in the middle of the night, just when he'd drifted off to sleep, to answer the call of a distressed mother or stop a demon from feeding on a helpless mortal. _How long could life go on like this?_ he'd wondered many a time.

He was glad that all this had happened, for the first time. He felt this as he looked upon Angela's sleeping face in the break of dawn, listening to her calm and quiet breathing. How beautiful she looked as she lay on his bed, the soft sunlight drifting in through the open windows to fall on her face and accentuate her lovely features. He himself was used to waking up early – he normally did not need to sleep more than a few hours everyday.

He wanted to go and lie beside her for a moment but then he thought he was fine there. Angela might not be prepared to find him lying beside her all of a sudden.

It was so different from everything else he'd experienced in regard to romance, John thought. If he was attracted to a woman, then he would not hesitate to consummate his relationship with her. However, with Angela, mere attraction was not the case – love was.

An hour later, his beloved stirred in her sleep, moaning briefly, which made him think momentarily of sex. And then she opened her eyes. Dark brown melted into soft gray.

"Good morning," smiled John, feeling an unfamiliar but welcome warmth consuming him as they looked at each other. Was love always like this?

"Good morning yourself," Angela covered her yawning mouth. He noticed for the first time that she had delicate hands. "Did you sleep well?"

"Like a baby," he said and then he frowned. It wasn't like him to use an expression like that. She noticed it, too.

"Like a baby?" she raised a well-shaped brown eyebrow.

John scowled, not meeting her eyes. "You know what I mean."

She chuckled and reached out to lay her hand on his. He wanted to kiss her all of a sudden, feel those soft, full red lips against his own.

For years, he had had only his fantasies and hopes for a different life to comfort him. Those hopes had materialized into Angela. He liked that.

"Breakfast?"

"You can actually cook?"

"I can't live on take-out all the time, you know. I get sick of running into half-breeds all the time."

"You're a keeper, then."

"Not really."

"Gee, that makes me feel secure."

John chuckled and slowly made his way to the kitchen.

A/N: So what do you think? What should happen next?


End file.
